Why is it Called a Noreaster When it Comes From the South?
That’s my question for the day. Hurricane Ida took a stroll up from Alabama to hit us here in Hampton Roads, Virginia yesterday. We were expecting strong winds and rain, but nothing too terrible, I thought. What we got was 60 – 75 MPH winds (that’s category 1, folks) and flooding.
I always wondered how you could get flooding in a coastal town. The water drains into the ocean, right? So how can it flood? Well, it so happens that the wind pushes so much water in that the inland water can’t get out. Or that’s at least what my brain understands.
Interesting effect, too. Wednesday, the marina calls and asks if I can tie down my boat. If I can’t, they’d be happy to do it for me. They’re quite capable. They do great work. But it is my boat. So I went to West Marine to get some new dock lines to replace the ones I had on the stern that we getting worn, and to get a couple of extra long ones as well. Then Erik and I headed down to the boat to tie her down a bit more and tell her she was going to be all right.
That night, after work, about 7 p.m., I went to check to see if everything was ok. The docks were under water. Not sure how much: the lights weren’t working. But enough that I didn’t feel comfortable heading out in the dark to check on it.
Next morning, someone from work suggested I stay home that day because the water was splashing against the Monitor-Merrimac bridge. That meant the James River had to be awfully high at that point. I pulled up the Tides at the Coast Guard Training Center (see link above). The diagram showed the tide had been consistently 4′ above normal since the night before:
Note: this covers 11/11 – 11/13/2009 –
The Coast Guard Training Center is across the creek from the marina.
Erik and I drove out yesterday. There were barriers up to prevent folks from walking on the docks. Did that stop us? Well, we still couldn’t get to the boat. We had to be content from walking on the path above the docks. Luckily, 4 Degrees looked like she was faring well.
This morning wasn’t any better:
There are supposed to be walkways around there somewhere!
My concern right now is that the batteries haven’t gone dead and that the bilge pump is still working. I’m sure the power has been turned off. But I’ll go check tomorrow morning to see how she held up!
The Gamut of Weather
Last night, we left for the starting line of the race in very calm weather. No wind to speak of. Barely a ripple on the water. We got to the starting line and most of the other boats didn’t even have their mainsails up, let alone the jib unfurled.
About 5 minutes before our start time, the committee boat announced that it would stick around for 1/2 an hour to see if the wind situation improved. About 15 minutes later, one boat left, announcing that it was too hot and they were out of beer.
A little while later, we were watching another boat up the river, who was heeling over at about 15 degrees. He radioed back a few minutes later that the wind was heading our way.
And it did. Nice wind. Great sailing weather!
As usual, I got the start time off a bit. I was unsure that I’d noted the first horn correctly. But we were to the starting line only about a minute late. Problem was, another boat from the next fleet was coming along the starting line, and he was on starboard tack. So we did a 360 to get out of his way, and headed out.
The race was around one buoy, back to the start, then around the buoy a second time. But that wind was bringing in a storm, and folks started suggesting strongly that the race just be one loop.
There was some confusion about the course. The committee boat was clear as to what it was. Problem was that this was the first race of the fall series and the starting buoy had changed. It used to be the one we were rounding. Now it was one further up the river. And, when the committee boat announced the route, they kept confusing the buoy numbers.
We were doing great! We were not towards the front, but we stayed with the pack. Interesting thing, though. I was sailing close haul, but it actually increased our speed when I let the sails out a tad, rather than bringing them in tight. And I did note that we were at about a 15 degree heel, which does seem to be optimal for this boat.
As folks started to round the mark, the heavy clouds started rolling in. So the committee boat announced that it would, indeed, be one lap around instead of two.
But we were still approaching the mark. I had come up on starboard tack, hugging the side of the river. We tacked at what I thought would put us on a direct line for the buoy. I didn’t take into account the strong current and the fact the tide was coming in. So we were short the mark. Tacked again, then back toward the mark. Still too far down. Next time, tacked into it and we were close enough to see that we were making as much progress sideways, in the wrong direction as we were making forward.
We finally made it around the mark. But by now, the lightning was starting. We abandoned the race at that point and headed in. First one for which we had done so.
Great thing about the race was that we were close to the other boats. We had a fairly good start. We kept up good speed. So we’ve gotten past the first hurdle that has been holding us back tactically. Now I just need to learn to adjust better for the tides and currents when aiming for downriver markers.
[Top]Maybe it was an Omen
… that I put the link in about the learn to sail in gusts link. That’s just what happened yesterday.
The weather was perfect for sailing! Breeze was nice. It was a little on the cool side, but not enough to be uncomfortable. We’d been out a couple of hours and were just about to turn back to the docks when BAM! A gust came and knocked us over about 35 degrees. Not much, if you’re a racer, I know – I’ve been at bigger tilts when racing. But this came out of nowhere! Everything inside the boat that wasn’t locked down went from port to starboard. The boat spun til it was facing a windward direction, then stayed pretty stationary. It was still rocking in the wind, but not quite that bad.
I first tried to pull down the mainsail. I got it partway down and it stuck. I couldn’t at the time figure out what was wrong. Debbie, my one passenger, I told to try to bring the jib in. It’s on a roller furler, so I showed her how to haul it in. But the wind was too strong and she couldn’t do it.
I finally got the mainsail reefed in (still couldn’t get it all the way down), and started the motor. I turned the boat slightly off the headwind, since directly in took us into a crabpot minefield. Debbie took over at the helm. I pulled in the jib, then took over the helm and headed back into port.
We were on a broad reach heading back in. With the main reefed, and the engine on minimal, we were still doing about 6.5 knots. The waves were coming in parallel to us, and growing.
Yeah, the waves. There were ripples on the water most of the time we were out. There were still ripples when this storm hit us. By the time we neared Wormley Creek (home), the waves were about 2 foot high.
Wormley Creek is sheltered. In fact, you really can’t tell what the weather will be like on the York River sitting there at the docks. In this case, it was a good thing. I knew, when I brought the boat in, I could take care of whatever I couldn’t in that weather.
When we got in, I saw that the main halyard had wrapped itself around the spreader. That’s why I couldn’t take it down. First lesson – follow the entire line when trying to figure out why it won’t move. That’s no saying that I could have gotten it unwrapped out there. That would have required holding the line tighter as I tried to bring down the sail. But at least I would have known why it wasn’t moving.
Second lesson? Well, I’m going to hope some more knowledgeable sailors can tell me how I could have predicted this, or was it a fluke?
Weather report – land: 5 – 10 mph winds; marine: 10 – 15 knots, with gusts of 20 late in the afternoon in the bay. Sky: partly cloudy when we headed out. Overcast most of the sail. But the sky was a light, even color, almost as if we were staring up at fog. No dark spots – no dark spots ever. That I would have known was a storm heading our way. And, as I mentioned, the waves didn’t pick up until after the winds had started getting strong.
The online buoy report doesn’t work for that part of the river. The only report I can get is from the buoy closer to the mouth of the bay. The weather report I get for that portion of the bay tends to be less favorable than I find conditions on the river, although I won’t venture out if the words small craft advisory appear.
And the whole time, I kept repeating my mantra: sailboats are stable, sailboats are stable. I have 4 tons under me and it will take alot to tip it over.
[Top]Miscommunication
So I get a call from Petra a few weeks ago, and just for the heck of it, I ask her if she wants to help me move my boat to a marina nearer to work. Erik’s going to be out of town this week, and I’d been wanting to to do the ‘camping near work’ – bit with it for awhile now. Living a 30 minute drive away isn’t as much a killer as some of the drives I’d made to work in the past. But it’s nice to be able to listen to the traffic report and laugh because you don’t have to worry about all the problems they’re reporting.
Anyway, she said she’d love to, and to give her a call back the weekend before so we can arrange for transportation. She asks where we’re moving it to, and I tell her it’s a marina about 5 miles from work.
I called her on Sunday and told her I had a ride home from work so I could leave my car at the marina. That way, I could give her a ride back to hers at the other end.
This morning arrives and I find that I have both her and Dave along. Hooray! I would have loved having a day with Petra alone. But Dave is one of the three people who taught me most of what I know about sailing, so it’s always a pleasure to have him around.
So we start preparing the boat to take off and Petra asks where, specifically, we’re going. I show her on the charts and she’s a bit taken aback. She thought, when I said ‘about 5 miles’ that I meant we were taking the boat to a place 5 miles from where it was now. Nope. It’s actually about 40 miles away. Well, she laughed. Luckily, she’s retired and Dave is semi-retired, so taking the whole day to do this wasn’t a big problem.
I had checked the weather report the night before. Partly cloudy with scattered showers. Winds 10 – 15 mph. I didn’t check it that morning, but I looked at it again on my Blackberry. Same report.
Well, the sky was overcast that morning as we left. But usually a weather report like that means it will burn off by noon or so. But it wasn’t to happen today.
We took off around 9 a.m. There wasn’t any wind to speak of going down the York River. It picked up some by the time we reached the bay. But we were going straight downwind, and didn’t want to veer and add to the mileage. So no sails yet. We hoped, however, when we reached the James River we could put them up, since we’d be heading off at a different angle.
We could see a storm ahead of us towards Hampton. We hoped it would be gone by the time we got there. Well, it was gone from Hampton!
As we approached the Chamberlain Hotel, before crossing over the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel, Petra called her daughter, who worked over at the local community college. She said there was a pretty bad storm over her way.
Partly cloudy. Scatter showers my @#$%.
We did put the sails up as we crossed the Bridge-Tunnel. But before we reached the Monitor Merrimac Bridge-Tunnel, the rain started. And it was coming down hard! I thought we were getting hail! Luckily, Petra and Dave had brought along rain jackets. I, of course, had my foul weather gear aboard. I also have a ton of extra stuff that was left by the previous owner (well, some of the stuff the left is useful!), and I loaned Petra a pair of rain pants.
So we were set. We took down the sails. Then the lightning started. And that’s when I was very glad that Dave was along. He knew about a pullout near the Monitor Merrimac Bridge where we could wait out the storm, which is just what we did. We parked and I pulled out some butternut squash soup I had aboard and we had lunch while the storm passed.
Bad thing about this whole experience was that our timing was then pretty far off. We hit the Nansemond river just as the sun was beginning to set. By the time we got to Bennett’s Creek, our final destination, it was dark. Cloudy skies. Last quarter moon. Luckily, there was enough light from the surrounding houses that we could at least see a little bit.
And, of course, there were shallow spots. But (pat, pat), I didn’t hit bottom once! Came close though. The James River current is pretty strong. Trying to stay the course when entering the Nansemond River was nigh to impossible.
We had one more white knuckle moment. We had to pass under some high voltage power lines. And, in the dark, it was hard to see if we were going to make it or not. As you can tell, since I’m writing this, we did.
I offered to take Dave and Petra to dinner, then renigged on the offer. I was plum tuckered out. But I did give them a rain check!
[Top]Post Storm
Well, we missed the brunt of the storm and came through ok. Of all the things I did, the fenders helped the most. The pilings on the starboard side of the boat were rubbed raw. Luckily, the rubbing was against my fenders and not against the side of my boat!
Yesterday, though, was the first time I inspected the galley. Chip joined my for a sail, and brought along some snacks. So I went to get some plates and cups. I found my paper bowls all mildewy, and the entire shelf smelling musty. Later that night, I was having dinner on the boat and found some of the pans filled with slimey liquid and that cupboard, too, smelling musty. Not sure where the water is leaking in to get under there.
The couscous was damp and had to be tossed, and so were the banana chips. The latter was probably a matter of sitting on the boat too long. But the former, as well as the paper bowl problem has taught me to better utilize plastic bags for storing things I don’t want to get wet!
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